Guardian Angel
by Traillbits
Summary: Christine is feeling ill. Even while weak and groggy, she seeks out Erik whom comes to her aid. A little bit fluffy. Based on the stage musical (not the movie), little mix of Kay and Leroux also.


Christine felt groggy waking up that morning. Normally she was an early riser, but this morning she was curled up in a cocoon of bedsheets feeling chills.

"Come on Christine!" Meg said, already dressed in her white tutu. She shook the lump of sheets, "We have rehearsal in fifteen minutes."

The brunette groaned in protest but began peeling away the blankets. Meg was right, and since she stepped in for Carlotta during Hannibal Monsieur Reyer wanted her to understudy for the Prima Donna in case another absence occurred. He had her practice to the Countess role for the upcoming procuction Ill Muto that would be in a few days.

But as Christine rose from the bed she felt a coughing fit rise in her chest. Her throat felt raw and dry, and when she breathed in she felt an irritable scratchiness.

"Christine are you ok?" Meg asked her friend with concern.

"I'm ok," The brunette said, "Just need to wake is all-" But Christine coughed again, a hand held to her chest.

The blond frowned, "You don't sound ok, I'll go find mother. Maybe she can help."

Christine heard Meg scamper downstairs as she sank back down into the blankets. She felt terrible, her throat raw and her whole body freezing despite the warm temperature that morning in Paris.

A few minutes later she heard footsteps coming to the dormitory. Christine's eyes glanced over to the door and saw Meg had returned with Madame Giry.

"How are you feeling Christine?" The older woman asked, placing a hand on the girl's forehead.

"Very cold," She pitifully mumbled, the scratchiness in her throat worse as she strained her voice.

"You don't sound too well. And you feel very warm, I'll inform Monsieur Reyer that you need today to rest."

Christine sat up hearing this, "B-But Madame-" She coughed again. "I can't miss rehearsal."

Madame Giry gently pushed Christine back on the pillow, laying the blankets over her.

"You can't perform in this condition my dear. And I'm sure one missed rehearsal is not the end of the world. Just rest Christine, you don't want to become worse." She reassured the young brunette. While Madame Giry was a strict ballet instructor, her motherly side showed when it came to caring for Meg and Christine, she considered the latter as if she were her own daughter.

Accepting that she was too sick to go to rehearsal Christine nodded. Giving the girl a reassuring smile Madame Giry made her leave.

"Come along Meg, you however have practice with others today."

"Coming mother. Feel better soon Christine!" She called before the pitter patter of Meg's feet had left.

Christine felt another cough rise up in her throat, groaning as the feeling passed again. She snuggled further into the blankets, her chocolate brown curls messily hanging in her face.

She didn't know how long it had been when she opened her eyes. Christine didn't even remembered falling asleep. The dormitory was still empty, and it was still light outside the window.

The brunette still felt terribly cold. Her throat felt raw and scratchy, and needed some water. There was a porcelain jug of water by the door. Christine got up to fetch a cup of water, only when she returned to the bed with her cup did she notice something on her bedside table that wasn't there this morning. A vase sat on the little table and in it was a bouquet of beautiful red roses, each one dethorned. Christine gently plucked one of the roses out of the vase, her fingers tracing over the soft petals.

If she were any of the other girls she'd have thought they were from Raoul. But he had a habit of giving her wild flowers, when he took her to lunch a few days ago he surprised her with an armful of lilies, marigolds, and daisies.

But Christine knew one man that would send her red roses like these. Even if everyone else thought he was more ghost than man.

Despite her body protesting to the chill she felt as she rolled out of bed, Christine placed her shoes on her feet, and left the dormitory. She tried to stifle her cough, not wanting to attract unwanted attention or trouble for being out of bed. She reached the Prima Donna's dressing room unseen. Carlotta hadn't returned to the opera house yet, and the room was left as it was when Christine took on the role Alyssa for Hannibal.

She walked up to the mirror, the same mirror her Angel of Music-or as everyone else knew him the Phantom of the Opera-had taken her through to his realm. But he had a name, last that he brought her down to the house on the lake Christine learned that his name was Erik.

"Angel?" Christine asked, stifling a cough. "Angel, can you hear me?"

She knew Erik had given her the flowers, if he had done that whilst she slept perhaps he was still watching her now.

Her body weak from the fever wreaking havoc on her she was now in a sitting position on the floor by the mirror, feeling too weak and tired to stand. Christine was only kept awake due to the coughing fits that escaped her.

She wasn't sure if she'd been laying there for a few minutes or an hour before she heard a soft click and felt even more chills as a cool gust of wind entered the room, a light misty fog accompanied the breeze.

"Christine?" She sighed with relief hearing her maestro's voice ask. Turning her head, she looked up to see Erik towering over her. He was always dressed so immaculately in a suit, as if ready to attend the opera, his cape like cloak over the suit. The black fedora on his head concealing part of his expression, but she could see easily recognise the white porcelain half mask he wore on his face.

Erik looked down at his protege with concern. He had hoped to see her from the catwalks during the rehearsal for Ill Muto this morning, but was nowhere to be seen. Only shortly later for the Opera Ghost to realise his pupil was bedridden and sick. When Erik realised Christine would be absent from practice today he decided to go back to his home and continue composing. But shortly after he returned, one of his alarms went off, signifying someone was in the Prima Donna room. She must have sought him out after finding the roses he left her as she slept, he hadn't expected her to wake up so early.

He couldn't just leave Christine here, and she apparently came looking for him. Scooping her up in his arms, and Christine's wrapping around his neck Erik took them through the mirror the locking mechanism clicking closed behind them.

As the reached the end of the passage and he laid her down in the gondola, Erik could see his little angel shiver. Already the fever was giving her body chills, as they went further underground it was only getting colder. The Phantom scolded himself for overlooking this. Removing his cloak, he wrapped it around her as a makeshift blanket.

Christine smiled, pulling the cloak closer to her feeling the warmth and taking in the sandalwood scent that Erik's clothing seem to had.

He steered the gondola down the lake and towards his home. Once they reached the shoreline of the house on the lake, Erik tied down the gondola and picked up Christine thinking she had fallen asleep. The Opera Ghost couldn't help but take in Christine's sweet natural smell as her mass of brown curls bobbed as they walked. Careful of the girl in his arms Erik opened the door to the Louis Phillipe room, setting her down on the bed. Still cocooned in his cloak, Erik placed the bedsheets over Christine.

In her sleep she started coughing again. Erik worried how ill his little protege was, he knew she had been outside quite often lately. While on the streets of Paris it was a warm beautiful day, all week it had been rain and smoggy weather.

While Erik was no doctor by any means, he did have some natural remedies he had picked up during his time with the gypsies. Once he put Christine to bed, Erik went to the next room opening his cabinet of medicines.

Christine woke again, realising she was no longer in the dormitory or the dressing room. She recognised the Louis Phillipe room as she picked up the candelabra left by the bed. Pulling the black cloak closer to her she paused hearing a familiar sound. Erik was already composing again, the ominous notes of the organ emanating through the air.

She pushed open the door, entering the parlour where Erik played. Her coughing gave Christine's presence away as the masked maestro abruptly stopped playing. He turned to see Christine, tangled mess of curls, sleepy eyed and shivering.

"Christine, you should be resting." Erik said concerned. "You'll catch your death a cold if you keep walking around."

"I'm sorry-" She said.

"Shh shh rest your voice mon ange." He chided, "Take a seat my dear, you need to stay off your feet."

Erik sat her down by the dying fire. Using the pokers, he rekindled the dying flames. Christine watched him as he turned out of eyeshot. But he returned soon after, holding a cup with a steaming substance.

"Drink this, it will help soothe your throat." He said, handing her the hot cup.

Christine took a sip, feeling some relief as the warm liquid calmed her ill vocal cords. It wasn't a tea, it was sweeter, with a hinting taste of mint and honey.

"I-" She started but was silenced as Erik raised a white gloved hand.

"Shh, let your voice rest." Walking to his workstation by the organ, Erik came back with a quill pen and parchment paper. "Use this for now Christine."

Nodding, Christine took the offered paper and quill. Scratching down something before turning it over to Erik.

'Thank you,' It read.

Erik's malformed lips curved in a slight smile. "Anything for you my Christine."

She scratched down more on the paper.

'I found your roses, they're beautiful.'

"I thought it might lift your spirits when you awoke. Though I didn't expect to find you half asleep in the Prima Donna room."

'I didn't want to be alone,' She wrote. Christine covered her mouth to cough again, though it wasn't as painful as it was earlier.

"If that is what Christine wants, then Erik will stay by your side."

The brunette gave her maestro a warm smile, moving closer to embrace him. Erik stiffened with a shudder, he had never been hugged by anyone and was unuse to such close contact.

When Christine pulled away, Erik cleared his throat.

"Ah yes. Thank you Christine, now you should be getting some rest."

Christine reached over for the parchment paper, scribbling again.

'Would you play for me?' She turned the paper over to him.

"As much as I enjoy playing my music for you Christine, you really must get warm and much needed rest. If you don't improve you may miss more rehearsals and our lessons."

Christine pouted, scribbling more down on the parchment.

'Please Erik? Or could you sing for me? Just one song, and I promise I'll rest. Please Angel, for me?'

Erik knew he couldn't refuse seeing the look in her eyes and the way she pouted her lip. Who would have thought the terrifying Phantom of the Opera could be swayed by a young, innocent, brunette soprano?

"One song, and then you must rest," Erik agreed.

Christine laid her head on the arm of the sofa as she listened to her Angel sing.

 _"Nighttime sharpens heightens each sensation,_

 _Darkness stirs and wakes imagination"_

Already he could see Christine's eyes fight to stay open. Still keeping tune, he picked her up from where she lay nodding off. Erik carried Christine back to the Louis Philippe room as he sang.

 _"You alone can make my song take flight,_

 _Help me make the music of the night"_

Pulling the covers over her, Erik blew out the candle leaving his angel to rest.

"Christine? Christine?" The brunette opened her eyes to see Meg standing over her.

"Meg?" She asked, "What are you-? Where is he?"

"Who?" The blond asked.

Christine realised she was no longer in Erik's home but back in the dormitory. She would have thought the whole thing was a dream if not for the bouquet of roses still by her bedside.

"No one, just a dream I had."

Meg smiled, "You sound much better. I brought you up something if you're hungry, you missed supper."

"Thank you Meg," Christine said, hugging her friend.

"Aw are these from Raoul?" Meg asked, noticing the roses. "That is so sweet! He called on you earlier today, but I told him you weren't feeling well."

"Oh ok, thank you for telling me," Christine said,

Unbeknown to her, Erik watched over her as Christine nibbled on the meal Meg brought up for her. Seeing that his protege was recovering well, he retired to box five to watch the evenings last half hour of rehearsal.

As the Opera Ghost entered his box, he realised it was not empty.

"You can't just spirit her away whenever you please Erik." Madame Giry scolded, as if he were a naughty child. When she came to check on Christine after lunch time she found the bed empty and noticed the roses.

Erik scoffed, "I did no such thing. She came to the mirror of her own free will, I had no idea she was even there until I heard the alarm."

The older woman sighed, "Well, I trust you took care of her?"

"Of course, I would never do her harm. Especially if she is ill."

"Well, Christine seems to be doing much better than this morning. I suppose I should say thank you Erik."

"No thanks is required Madame."

"All the same, I'm grateful I can't always be there for her."

'I always will be,' Erik thought to himself, 'Christine shall always have her angel.'

"Achoo!" Suddenly echoed from the box. Erik covered his mouth with a handkerchief "I apologise Madame. Now if you would be so kind I would like some privacy."

"Very well," Madame Giry then took her leave.

But not before hearing another "Achoo!" as she closed the door to box five.

"Who would have thought ghosts could sneeze?" She chuckled


End file.
